


Servitude

by Usetheladiesroom



Category: Alien Series, Alien: Covenant, Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Androids, Because David considers Weyland his father and refers to him as such, But Weyland is more or less indifferent, Deepthroating, Does it count if he's a robot??, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Pseudo-Incest, i dunno, tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usetheladiesroom/pseuds/Usetheladiesroom
Summary: Whenever Weyland asks for anything, he always receives; especially when it comes to his creation, David.





	Servitude

**Author's Note:**

> (This takes place before the events of either film but pretty much matches up with the prologue of Covenant.)
> 
> So I just realized that i've had this on draft ever since I first watched Covenant back in June, and now it's December and the fandom is most likely dead lol
> 
> Anyways, I was originally just going to keep this one to myself, but seeing as there are only three fics under this specific pairing, I thought 'why not?' Honestly, I thought there'd be more fics for these two given the potential to explore their relationship throughout the years, David's utter hatred for Weyland, and the fact that in both Covenant and the TED talk for Prometheus we got to see a significantly younger version of Weyland compared to his ancient af self in the latter. And I just thought that someone out there would be inspired enough to write for them. But I thought wrong, and so I just had to take matters into my own hands.
> 
> But with all that being said, this isn't really a ship of mine, and i've never written for any of these characters before this fic, so if the characterization is a bit off, i'm truly sorry! 
> 
> So, yeah. If you happened to have stumbled upon this fic, I hope you enjoy! :D (and if you don't, then I profusely apologize!)

"David, get on your knees."

That is the first thing that is asked of him when Weyland practically drags him into the same room that he had been brought to life in all those months ago. He does not know why father has done so, but he complies with the order nevertheless. He had learned on day one that hesitation was unacceptable, as doing so would upset father greatly, and that was something that he did not want to do. Not in the slightest.

Once his knees hit the floor, David looks up expectantly at the man before him. Weyland inhales, taking a deep breath, as he holds his hand out to tentatively caress David's cheek with a smile.

"Good, very good."

Weyland holds his face almost lovingly so, and David beams as he tilts his head to bathe in the affection that he is given. Of course, the affection is not real; as his father's dead eyes and rather forced smile are anything to be taken into account. It's simply for his benefit alone. An illusion of love that escapes him so, and yet he holds onto it for as long as he can, because the truth of the matter is that it will never be given freely. Not truly.

With Weyland as he sits on the Carlo Bugatti throne chair, the same chair that all the other synthetics within his line are subject to at the beginning of their near-immortal lifespans, there is an air of frustration; a feeling of reluctance, which is something that is quite unusual for his illustrious creator, but he digresses. Weyland is the pinnacle of power; both in his standing above the rest of humanity, and how both he and himself are situated in the purely white room that surrounds them. Weyland's legs are spread open, thighs on either side of his head as he kneels before him; the very position itself having been depicted in great abundance amongst the vast catalogue of art and literature that has ranged all throughout the course of the millennia. It is the very structure that conveys what exactly it means to conquer, and what exactly it means to submit. What it means to rule, and what it means to serve under such greatness. But for David, the position is undesirable, as serving does not make one equal to greatness. It does the exact opposite, in fact.

But before David can continue to immerse himself in his own musings, his father's voice pulls him back to the present; his name uttered in a tone that is both inquisitory and demanding. It's clear that the man intends to continue speaking but David's eyes, for whatever reason, gives him pause. Weyland shifts his gaze away in an instant, distaste reflected on his features for a mere second, before he swallows it down and turns his attention back to the android with renewed vigor, "David, what do you know about performing acts that are... _sexual,_ in nature?"

This manages to stir a bout of curiosity in David, and he smiles as he promptly answers the question that has been asked of him, wondering what his father exactly has in mind with the information that he is about to recieve. Although several scenarios do pop up in his head so that he can assess the situation and come to the most logical conclusion with ease, he deigns to ignore them all in favor of pure surprise.

"I know the basic acts of giving pleasure, and know how to perform each of them to the very best of my ability. However, I do not understand why my other counterparts do not offer the same services as myself."

This rewards him with Weyland skimming his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb in a slow and concise manner. "It is because you have been specifically programmed to do so."

David considers this as he chooses his words carefully, "You are admitting that you have personally programmed me to perform sexual acts on yourself then?"

"Yes."

"Then what would you have me do, father?" David asks, coy as he looks up at Weyland through his lashes and licks his lips in a somewhat subtle form of blatant flirtation. The action is done almost involuntarily in regards to how his very mood had shifted by way of his father's confirmation of what he had correctly assumed, but it still causes the man above him to flinch; though for what exactly, he is not certain.

Weyland sighs, shifting slightly in his seat as he locks eyes with him once more with an expression that he cannot read no matter how hard he tries, "I would like you to pleasure me orally, if you may."

David nods in agreement, moving to unbuckle his father's leather belt. But as he is about to unzip the man's pants, another question stands at the tip of his tongue as his hands still, their position just above Weyland's lap. And this garners a look of disdain from his father, as they radiate a sense of anger at his sudden hesitation.

"Isn't this wrong?" David began, head tilted to the side to express his apparent confusion at the situation that they have found themselves in, "I am your son, and you, my father, and yet you condone this act even though it is considered taboo by the majority of society as a whole. Why is that?"

Weyland mutters under his breath in irritation, pursing his lips as the hand that now resides on the back of his neck shifts from a superficially gentle hold to a tight grip in the matter of seconds. David feels what should be pain, but to him it's merely a different touch that is of no cause for concern other than an indication of Weyland's ever-changing emotions.

When his father's sudden rage is suppressed, the hand on David's neck lessens its grip and reverts back to kneading the skin that is there with calloused and rough fingers. "You are my creation, David, therefore it does not matter. You are not my flesh and blood. You were made by my hands, not by the life that flows within me. I call you 'son,' as a formality, as you do the same by calling me 'father'. We are not related by any means, and you are merely here because I have made it so," Weyland states matter of factly with a slight edge to his voice. He smiles in an almost cruel fashion as he tells David this, and this causes David to feel something akin to an emotion that his kind should never feel towards their creators: hatred.

David's eyes glaze over and he frowns as the man sitting before him denounces him as simply being a creation. He was more than just a creation. He was made to be a companion, an equal to his father's own intelligence, heralding both his philosophy and his luxurious lifestyle. And yet this is what he is reduced to when all is said and done. Just another synthetic among all the rest.

A robot.

A toy.

A thing.

He does not let his dissatisfaction show, however, and David opts to silently bottle up his distaste as he quickly unzips Weyland's trousers, and slides the man's cock out of the slit of his boxers. Weyland is not erect, and so David does what he must. He gently grips the appendage in his hand, sliding his hand up and down meticulously and slowly brings it to life. When Weyland begins to buck against his hold, David wonders if he too can hold an erection as well. He assumes that the other Davids have the capacity to do such since they are all built to be as human as their human counterparts, and since he was specifically made to bring sexual satisfaction in of itself, he could presumably feel whatever a human feels when they are masturbating. He will see later when he is alone in his room, he supposes.

When Weyland is fully erect, David involuntarily licks his lips once more, and the sudden urge to take the appendage into his mouth is too impossible to ignore. He holds the base of it in his hand, as he goes in to slide his lips up the length, licking the head before sucking it into his mouth in one swift motion. The taste is pungent and bitter, and yet David wants more of it. It must be his programming that is making him like this, David thinks. It has to be. All he can think about is pleasing Weyland, giving him the most pleasure that he can offer him, and to be as receptive as he can to his every want and need. And in return the sounds that the man makes, those sounds of approval, are more than enough to make the degradation all the more worth it. Father groans, and his hand tightens in his hair as he lets the man thrust into his mouth. He uses him, and David, at that moment, wants more than anything to be used. He wants it. He needs it. And aren't those just the very concepts that make humans what they are?

As reveries continue to sing within his own mind, so does the now frantic pace of Weyland's cock as it hits the back of his throat mercilessly with each thrust. David looks up, and he sees that Weyland's eyes are squeezed tight, sweat dripping from his brow, and hair in slight disarray, and it's the most human that his own father has ever appeared to him. David hums, pleased with what he is able to reduce his oh so beloved creator into. And just like that, Weyland's cock begins to pulse and throb inside his mouth, and David knows that the man is about to reach climax. He lets his hand slide against beating flesh, sucking the rest of what his hand cannot encapsulate until Weyland yanks his hand away and shoves his cock in as far as it can go, stilling David's head without having to worry about choking him in the process.

"Swallow," Weyland all but growls, and with a keening noise, followed by a groan, his creator empties into his mouth, warm liquid filling his throat to the brim and he dutifully swallows it all as the grip in his hair begins to loosen.

He looks up at Weyland once more, as the other man slides his now limp cock out of his mouth, but not without it releasing one last string of semen onto his face. His father's face, on the other hand, is rid of the humanity that he had been responsible for only moments ago, and it reverts back to it's usual cold exterior. It is only then that David realizes that this exercise was only partly for pleasure, and more for observation than anything else. To see what he would do, and how he would react; but it does not bother David as he lifts his finger and wipes his face, licking the remaining drops of what his father had referred to as _life_ off the plane of his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> And now I shall get back to working on my other fic before people get suspicious lol
> 
> (I'll probably edit this later, but as for right now, I need some sleep~)


End file.
